


Neighbours

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-29 00:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Elrond checks out the store next door.





	Neighbours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Savour_the_Hunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savour_the_Hunt/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for albino_obscurial’s “Lindir owns/works at a high-end sex shop. The store gets a lot of high society clients and for one reason or another, Elrond happens upon the shop and is stricken by the handsome-yet-shy shopkeeper. Elrond finds out quickly that Lindir can talk about the kinkiest of products/sex-related topics with a straight business face but he will turn into a blushing, stuttering, flustered mess if the conversation is turned around on him. Ask the boy how to properly use a buttplug and he will give you a detailed, step-by-step process. Flirt with him and, god forbid, he will forget the fundamentals of the English language.” prompt on [my dreamdwidth](https://yeaka.dreamwidth.org/1190.html).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Given that Elrond’s owned his combination book and coffee shop for a good dozen years, he really should be familiar with his block. He does know most of the stores around him, if only from walking past them—he isn’t much of a shopper, and his life tends to be largely one of habit. He walks from home to his shop, stays there until an hour after it closes, then walks home and repeats the process. Sometimes he drives out to visit his children on the weekends, and other times he hosts dinner for them, but that only requires an occasional trip to the grocery store. He did notice when the small storefront next door sold, but the nature of the new business didn’t register. Its name— _Rivendell_ —could mean anything. At least Elrond thinks it complements his own shop’s name: _Imladris._

Truthfully, he’d probably never find out what lay beyond the tinted, logo-laden windows, if not for the regular customer that came with it. Ever the new business’ unveiling, a handsome young elf with long brown hair has come into Elrond’s shop for at least ten minutes a day. He always orders the same thing: a caramel soy latte: another creature of habit. He keeps to himself, usually toting a book to read or purchasing a new one from Elrond. He seems sweet, very quite, perhaps shy, and thoroughly endearing. Elrond would never cross the line by flirting with a customer, but he can pop next door and see what sort of place his new customer works at. From the outside, it looks put together well enough. Judging from that customer’s aura, Elrond half expects to find a high-end bookstore, which would be unfortunate competition but perhaps an overall complement to the many used books that line his own store’s walls. 

He’s more than surprised when he does finally enter Rivendell. If he were carrying his customer’s order, it would probably fall right through his fingers and spill across the floor. If he were any younger, his face would likely be fixed in unadulterated shock. But Elrond’s old enough that he manages to pull himself together reasonably quickly. Then he strolls across the polished floor to the front desk, where Caramel-Soy-Latte is helping a redhead woman bag up a dress made entirely of black faux-leather straps. Elrond patiently gets in line behind her and waits for them to finish.

They do so soon, without a single unnecessary word from Caramel-Soy-Latte, even though the woman is quite talkative. She also smiles at Elrond when she turns to leave, and he peripherally returns it before focusing in on his true target.

The man visibly startles. He must recognize Elrond—though Elrond rarely attends the register himself, he’s still almost always present and often checks in on his customers. Caramel-Soy-Latte flushes a pale pink across his pretty cheeks and starts, “Oh... you’re...?”

When it’s clear he’s not going to finish his statement, Elrond extends a hand across the short counter and finishes, “Yes; I own the place next door. It’s Elrond.”

“Elrond,” the man repeats with a pleasant tint, which is a lovely sound—he has the voice of a songbird. If not a bookshop, Elrond might’ve guessed he worked at a music store. Or just about anything but... this. He wraps his slender fingers around Elrond’s and melts into Elrond’s firm handshake, then finishes, “Oh. Ah, my name’s Lindir.” Swiftly withdrawing his hand, he straightens up and adds with a soft smile, “How might I help you today?”

Elrond doesn’t even know where to start. He’s never been in a sex shop before, but that’s not something he’s about to divulge. It takes him a moment to vaguely provide, “I’m looking to, ah... spice things up.” Because that sounds like something one does before buying adult things.

Lindir tilts his head. It shifts his silken hair along his trim shoulders. His uniform is as crisp as usual: Black pants and a button-up shirt—nothing that would’ve given this place away. He asks, “For one person, for a partnership, or for more...?”

 _More._ If Elrond’s reading the situation right, then the quiet man he assumed was shy is now asking him if he intends to participate in an orgy. That’s definitely _not_ Elrond’s scene. Even though Elrond prefers to keep his sex life traditional and partnered, he admits, “For one. I’m single.”

Lindir nods. He moves out from behind the counter with the grace of a goddess, drifting past a wrack of magazines and a display of oils to a wall of shelves, each sporting a stranger sculpture than the last. Elrond can guess the point of most of them, but certain oblong shapes go right over his head. Lindir thoughtfully scans the items, and Elrond dares to ask, “I’ve noticed you often frequent my shop alone... would it be rude to return the question?”

Lindir’s head instantly whips around. Despite being silhouetted in sex toys, he looks absolutely scandalized. Elrond had meant the question lightly, only posing it in the first place because Lindir had asked him first, but of course, that was pertinent to the shop. Seeing Lindir’s flustered response, Elrond immediately wants to take it back. Frowning and physically stepping back, he tells his host, “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Please, forget I asked.” 

Lindir closes his mouth, only to open it again several times, still clearly floundering. It takes him a minute to fully recover, though his cheeks remain flushed. But he shakes his head and insists, “No, no, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I’m... ah, single. I mean—” He cuts off and abruptly turns back towards the wall of toys. All at once, his voice smoothes out, and he calmly recites, “We don’t have much in the way of plain dildos anymore, aside from the warg collection, but as those are carved from wood, they’re honestly more meant as art pieces than for actual pleasure—we don’t advise inserting anything made from such unforgiving materials. They are varnished, though, so we can at least promise they won’t give splinters. We do have quite a variety of vibrators in just about any shape, size, and rhythm you could want. But if you were looking to spice things up, we also carry plugs, beads, etcetera...” Turning back towards Elrond, all big bright eyes and pure professionalism, Lindir ends with, “Were you looking for anything in particular, Mr. Elrond?”

Given the prior misstep, Elrond tries to control his smile when he suggests, “Just Elrond.” Lindir’s smile twitches a tad wider. Since he seems perfectly alright again, Elrond truthfully answers, “I’m afraid this isn’t my area, though; I prefer to top.”

“Oh.” Lindir glances across the shop at a display of neatly packaged tubes that mean nothing to Elrond. “We do carry several lines of artificial orifices.” His steady voice falters again when he adds, “Ah, not that you would... need those... I’m sure you could get the real thing quite easily if you wanted to...” Lindir’s eyes go wide around the sides, and he glances back to Elrond to hurriedly add, “That is, I mean, you’re rather handsome, if you don’t mind me saying so, and your business is simply wonderful... but I don’t mean to overstep...” He pauses to pointedly cough, and he averts his eyes again to redirect, “But... we also have all sorts of fetish gear, if you were really looking to go in a new direction. I can direct you to whatever suits your fancy...”

Elrond’s... confused. The compliment lingers in his mind, and it _feels_ like Lindir’s opening the door for him to get personal again, but the last thing he wants to do is make Lindir uncomfortable. After a long moment of thought, Elrond carefully asks, “What would you recommend?”

Lindir takes a few steps over into the next section. Elrond follows, and his eyes spend a few seconds scanning the metallic devices around him before inevitably sliding back to Lindir. The shop certainly is interesting, but Lindir’s far more desirable to Elrond. Lindir gestures to a line of black and silver harness along the wall. “We have a good range of restraints, and we’re careful to only buy the highest quality. They’re built to last, aesthetically flawless, and always with a mind for safety. The more restrictive ones also come with suggested guidelines in their packaging to assure the optimum experience for new comers.”

Elrond’s never tied anyone up in his entire life. He blinks at the restraints, then murmurs, “I admit, I’m surprised.”

Lindir’s head tilts. “At?”

“You. Forgive me, but... you just seemed like such a quiet person. I wasn’t expecting you to recommend something so... extreme.”

Lindir’s blush deepens exponentially. Elrond again worries he’s gone too far, but before he has the chance to apologize, Lindir blurts, “Oh, no, no, I’m sorry, I wasn’t recommending for _me_ ; I prefer things quite gentle! N... not that you would want to know about that, I just assumed... I’m sorry, you seem truly gentle as well, but it’s just that I felt a sort of... a respectful strength in you, and I thought, perhaps, with the right person, you would be a wonderful d—although, right, you asked for things for one person—I’m sorry—I can... ah...” The ramble fades out into nothing, and then Lindir sucks in a deep breath and reels it back in, suggesting coolly, “Perhaps I can interest you in one of our exclusive movie packages? We have several variety collections that can introduce you to a number of exotic kinks and fetishes that might help you pinpoint your own tastes more specifically.”

There’s so much to unpack there that Elrond’s terribly lost again. He has too little experience with flirting. He can’t tell if Lindir’s extending him an olive branch or if he’s just broken Lindir’s brain. Although, Lindir seems perfectly fine when talking about all manner of debauchery. Just nothing personal.

Elrond’s saved from having to answer by a tall, sever-looking elf wandering over. His dark hair is drawn back in a braid, and he wears a stylish jacket over what looks like the same uniform as Lindir’s. He must be the manager, or perhaps the owner, because he stops to ask, “Are you finding everything alright?”

Elrond’s found what he was looking for as soon as he walked through the door. He answers, “Yes; Lindir’s been very helpful.”

The newcomer dons a thin grin. “That’s good to hear. I do think he’s my best employee. He knows just about every item in this store inside and out, so don’t be afraid to ask him any questions.” The man pats Lindir’s shoulder before puttering off towards the door in the back. As soon as he’s out of view, Lindir drops his head into his hands, but not fast enough to hide his colossal blush. Extensive sexual knowledge or not, Elrond thinks Lindir’s the cutest creature he’s ever seen. 

But that’s a dangerous thought. He can tell that poor Lindir’s already dying of embarrassment, and he doesn’t want to make it any worse. So he says, “Well, I think I’ve caused enough damage for the day. Thank you for the tour, Lindir. And I am sorry for any discomfort I’ve caused.”

He turns to go, but Lindir jolts and interjects, “Oh, wait—I’m sorry. I’m the one that was unprofessional. I... I’d be very happy if you were to come again some time. I can show you anything you like.” He smiles tentatively, radiant in an unassuming, humble sort of way. He’s just Elrond’s taste. 

Elrond feels obligated to say, “That might not be appropriate.”

Looking immediately crestfallen, Lindir asks, “Why? Did I do something wrong? Ah... Erestor can show you around, if... you would prefer that... that is, my manager... but... but I... if I could talk to you again...”

Elrond shakes his head and admits, “No, I’m simply more interested in you than anything you’re selling, and I don’t wish to overstep. But thank you for the hospitality nonetheless.” Knowing that was definitely too much, he heads for the door.

Lindir silently falls into step with him. It isn’t until the door’s actually open, the cool air of the street wafting in, that Lindir blurts out, “I... have a break coming up soon.”

Elrond, one foot on the pavement, turns to look back. Lindir’s working his bottom lip, eyes half lidded and averted as he murmurs hopefully, “I was... going to go for coffee... maybe... we could get a table for two?” With a shaken breath and rosy cheeks, he looks up again and finishes, “Er, I can tell you all about what we have?”

A chuckle rumbles out of Elrond’s throat. He suggests, “Perhaps we should start with lighter topics. But thank you. I would be delighted to have coffee with you.”

Lindir lets out an obvious sigh of relief. The smile that comes to him is so quaint and genuine, and it makes Elrond’s stomach do flips like it hasn’t done in years. Lindir says, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Elrond is too. He nods his head and leaves then, making sure to book the nicest table.


End file.
